Sean invited everyone into the conference room, where Melissa served them coffee and water. Once everyone was settled, she brought in the paperwork and led them through the process of signing and initialing.
“Good gracious,” the woman said, “It seems like all we do lately is sign and initial forms; first to retire, then to sell our house in Arlington, and now to buy this one.”
Melissa notarized their signatures where required, using her official notary stamp.
“I didn’t think felons could be notaries,” Ava said.
The room went deathly quiet. Melissa could feel the blood rush to her face. All eyes turned to her, but she fixed hers on what she was doing so she wouldn’t make a mistake.
“Melissa received a statement of good conduct from the West Virginia Secretary of State,” Sean said. “She’s not only a notary, but she's also a certified paralegal.”
“Nobody in this town thinks she did anything wrong,” Trick said to the buyers. “She rescued a baby from a drug den and then brought him up as her own child.”
“Which is kidnapping,” Ava said. “How many years did you serve for that, Miranda? Or was that the identity you stole? Your name is actually Melissa, am I right?”
Melissa finished her part of the paperwork, scooped it up and said, “I’ll be right back with copies for you.”
There were tears in her eyes, and she couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Although she had left the conference room, the copier was right outside, and she could hear everything they subsequently said.
“Are we sure this is all legal?” the man asked.
“I’m feeling a little uneasy,” his wife said. “I don't know if I like this.”
“It’s all fine,” Sean said. “I don’t know why Ava decided to bring this up during the closing for the sale of her property, but Melissa is my right hand in this practice. There is no one more honest or reliable than that woman. She paid the price for what she did, heroic as it was, and afterward, she put herself through school to better herself. Her son Tommy even won a full scholarship to a big ten school. They are both beloved members of this community. I’m proud to have her work beside me, and I can assure you, she was thoroughly vetted and approved by the proper state authorities. Questioning her qualifications in this setting is, frankly, Ava, pretty mean-spirited.”
“It’s all good, folks,” Trick said. “Everything’s above board and legal, nothing to worry about.”
“I just wonder how advisable it is to employ her,” Ava said. “It couldn’t be good for public relations.”
“Her story is going to be in the local paper this Sunday,” Sean said. “You folks should be sure to read that, and then I think you’ll be proud to know Melissa.”
Melissa came back in, her face burning, gave the buyers their copies of the closing documents organized in a folder. She took the originals, plus the checks received, and returned to her desk at the front of the building.
‘Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry,’ Melissa murmured to herself as she sat there, staring upwards to keep from letting the tears fall.
She heard them all get up to leave the conference room, so she busied herself pretending to be making a call by calling her own phone, which she had muted for the meeting. She could feel it vibrating in her tote bag on the floor beneath her desk.
As Trick passed her desk, he winked and pointed his finger at her.
“We need to get together about you buying the Foxglove, jailbird,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
As they passed, the buyers waved to her and mouthed, “thank you.” They still looked worried.
Sean followed them all outside.
Ava hung back as she took her time putting on her coat, gloves, and scarf. Then she came right up beside Melissa, leaned over, and said, “I’m just getting started with you.”
She lightly ran one finger down Melissa’s cheek and let it trail down her neck.
“You get away from me,” Melissa said.
Melissa pushed back her chair to stand up, letting the receiver of the phone clatter to the desktop. She put up her fists and waved them at Ava.
“I’m not scared of the likes of you,” Melissa said. “You just say the word, lady, and you and me’s gonna commence to tangling.”
Ava laughed.
“If I were you, I’d find another town to live in, maybe down south with people who talk like you,” Ava said. “If you really think I’m going to let you stop me from being with Patrick, you’re even dumber than you look. I’ve got him right where I want him, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You don’t stand a chance, Miranda.”
As soon as Ava left the office, Sean came back in, took one look at Melissa’s face and said, “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Melissa said, her voice cracking with emotion. “I can’t get into it right now.”
As if she hadn’t had enough drama for one day, Patrick came through the door.
“I need to talk to you,” he said to Sean. “Right now, if that’s okay.”
Patrick glanced at Melissa, but she turned her head away.
“Okay,” Sean said. “Hold my calls, please, Melissa.”
Sean led Patrick down the hallway and closed the door to his office. Although Melissa could hear the murmur of their voices, she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She longed to go down the hall and eavesdrop but didn’t dare for fear of getting caught.
As Melissa picked up the receiver she had dropped on the desk, she realized she had been recording everything that had happened via her cell phone voice mail. She played it back, and Ava’s threats came through loud and clear. She saved the voice mail, wondering if she’d ever have a need to use it.
While Patrick was in Sean’s office, she kept herself busy organizing the closing documents and making out the deposit slip for the cashier’s check.
Twenty minutes passed.
As they came down the hallway, Melissa heard Patrick say, “Keep it safe, man. It’s all I’ve got.”
“Don’t worry,” Sean said.
Patrick stopped at Melissa’s desk.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’ve been better,” Melissa said.
“We need to talk,” Patrick said.
“Not right now,” Melissa said. “I’m working.”
“Call me,” he said. “I’ll be at work.”
The phone rang, and Melissa leaped to answer it before Sean did.
Patrick gave her a sad smile and left the office.
After she got off the phone, Sean called her back to his office. In his hand, he held a sealed, padded mailing envelope, on which he had written his name across the seal.
“Put this in our safety deposit box at the bank,” he said. “And don’t let it out of your hands until you do.”
Melissa took the package, went back to the front, put on her coat, and gathered the things she needed to distribute, mail, and deposit. Sean followed her, and stood there, looking out the front door.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” he said.
“What about the bakery sale contract?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“Let’s do it tomorrow,” he said. “I don’t have anyone scheduled to come in the rest of the day, and I have something I need to work on with no interruptions. I’m going to lock the front door, send all calls to voicemail, and consider us closed for the day.”
“Okay,” Melissa said. “Listen, Sean, about what happened in there today …”
“Don’t,” Sean said. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ava was way out of line.”
“Thank you,” Melissa said. “See you tomorrow.”
As Melissa walked the few yards to the bank, she felt the padded envelope to try to ascertain what was inside. It was small, smaller than a cigarette lighter, more the size of a nail clipper. She felt it again and again and finally realized what it was: a flash drive. It had to be. What was on it? Had Patrick given it to Sean? He must ha
ve. She was dying to know what was on it, but Sean having put his name across the seal meant that no one was supposed to open it.
She considered opening the other end. Afterward, she could easily reseal that end with glue, and no one would be any the wiser. She was so tempted. But it was wrong. Sean trusted her, had stood up for her in the conference room earlier. He had done so much for her. If he had thought she should see what was on it, he would have shared it with her. No, she would put it in the safety deposit box and trust Sean to know what was best.
After her errands were finished, she went down the street to get in her car. Someone, she assumed Ava, had run a key down the side of the car, ruining the pristine paint. Melissa stood there, looking at the damage. Since it was parked on the street, Melissa assumed lack of privacy had been the only impediment to Ava knifing her tires or cutting her brake lines. She got in the car and was putting on her seatbelt when she saw someone had left a note under her windshield wiper. Her stomach rolled as she anticipated some kind of terroristic threat.
She got back in the car with it and unfolded it, her heart pounding.
“I love you,” it read. “Don’t give up on us. Patrick.”
Carefully, she folded the note and tucked it down into her tote bag.
Her phone rang.
“When are you coming out here?” Hannah said. “Do I have to track you down like a rabbit? You’re in deep trouble, little missy, and I want in on it.”
“I’m on my way,” Melissa said.
Hannah’s farmhouse was at the end of Possum Holler, which wound around the side of the hill Rose Hill was built upon, past dilapidated houses and the cemetery. Melissa noticed that somebody had put one of those tiny houses on a previously vacant lot owned by Maggie Fitzpatrick, where a house she owned had been burned down many years before.
When she reached the farm, only one of Hanna’s big dogs, the husky named Jax, ran out to greet her, followed by two little fuzzy white dogs known as Bunny and Chicken. Hanna walked out of the sun porch attached to the back of the house to meet her.
“Where’s Wally?” Melissa asked her.
“Sad story,” Hannah said. “The dogs went on a walkabout, and someone shot him. Jax came and got me and led me to him, but it was too late.”
“That’s terrible,” Melissa said. “Do you know who did it?”
“Could’ve been anybody,” Hannah said. “If we’re gonna let them run wild in the woods like they do, we can hardly be surprised when some drunken idiot with a deer rifle takes a pot shot at anything that moves.”
“How’s Sammy taking it?”
“He’s upset,” Hannah said. “First his Uncle Ian and now this. He’s like his dad, though, more and more. He doesn’t like to talk about feelings, doesn’t want to cry in front of anyone.”
“He’s only seven,” Melissa said. “He’s still a baby inside. They still need their mamas even though they like to pretend they don’t.”
“I don’t know,” Hannah said. “It seems like he’s seven going on thirteen. Are they always so moody at this age?”
“I only know about raising Tommy,” Melissa said. “He would go through times where he didn’t want nothin’ to do with me. Just wait it out, he’ll come to you when he needs you. And he will.”
“I hope so,” Hannah said. “I miss my little punkin’.”
“He’s still in there,” Melissa said. “They just want so badly to be big boys at that age. I remember Tommy used to act tough whenever Patrick was around, but later he’d watch Winnie the Pooh with me.”
“I’ve got nachos in the oven,” Hannah said. “Let’s crack open some beers and get down to business.”
An hour later, Hannah was caught up on everything Melissa knew, from the night of the accident to the mysterious flash drive in the mailing pouch. Hannah had asked questions and taken notes in a small spiral notebook that had cartoon characters on the front cover.
Melissa let Hannah listen to the voice mail.
“She’s evil,” Hannah said. “You need to send me that voicemail in case your phone gets stolen.”
Melissa did that.
“There are two separate mysteries to solve here,” Hannah said. “Number one is if Ava was there the night of the accident and the second is who was that guy that died and did he have any connection to Ava?”
“I don’t see how they could be connected,” Melissa said. “He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But the lack of IDs and a car really bugs me,” Hannah said. “It gets my spidey senses tingling.”
“Ed said they were going to publish his photo and submit his fingerprints to the FBI.”
“So I need to get to Deputy Skip right away,” Hannah said. “I also need to find out where the guy lived and poke my nose in there, see what I can find out.”
“Maybe the guy driving the white SUV saw what happened,” Melissa said.
“Could be,” Hannah said. “Good thinking.”
They paused while Hannah took more beers out of the fridge.
“Do you think Ava would hurt me?” Melissa said. “I mean more than just trash talk?”
Hannah nodded.
“Oh, yeah, she’s a psycho,” she said. “But don’t worry; I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t succeed.”
“I don’t understand her,” Melissa said. “She’s got everything. Why does she have to have Patrick, too?”
“Because she can,” Hannah said. “Some people are selfish that way.”
“Why do people cheat?”
Hannah shrugged.
“They get off on it and think they can get away with it,” she said.
“Has Sam ever cheated on you?”
“Not that I know of,” Hannah said. “And he probably would get away with it. The man’s an Appalachian ninja. I hope he doesn’t, and if he does, I hope I don’t find out. I don’t want to know. I’m happier in my blissful ignorance.”
“I wish I could un-know it,” Melissa said. “I can’t quit thinking about it, and it makes me feel so stupid that everyone knew but me.”
“I admit I did hear rumors,” Hannah said. “But they hid it pretty well.”
“I’m not sure I can take him back,” Melissa said. “I could never trust him again.”
“Give it some time,” Hannah said. “Let’s fix Ava’s wagon and then review the situation.”
“She gives me the creeps.”
“I’m glad you’re staying with Delia,” Hannah said. “Try not to be alone if you can help it, just until we get this resolved.”
“Do you really think we can stop her?”
“I do, and do you want to know why? Because Ava is just one person, albeit a narcissistic sociopath, and we are legion. We use our powers for good, and that gives us an edge. Now, I’ve got to get out of here, because I need to pick up Sammy, take him to Delia’s, and then get to work a-nose-pokin’.”
As they walked outside, Hannah threw a tennis ball for the dogs to chase.
“Hey, I heard you’re buying the Foxglove,” she said.
“That’s supposed to be a secret,” Melissa said.
“If you’re gonna talk on your cell phone in this town, you’re gonna have your business listened in on by every granny with a scanner.”
“I’ve heard that before, but I don’t believe it,” Melissa said.
“You better believe it,” Hannah said. “Anytime you’re in trouble, just get on the cell phone and leave me a message. Before I can check my voicemail, one of my grannies will be on the case. So, are you buying it or not?”
“Well, it’s not a done deal, but close.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
Melissa shrugged.
“You know what you ought to do,” Hannah said.“Make it a tiny house park. Those things are selling like hotcakes. All the college kids want them. Hell, I want one.”
“I saw one down the holler,” Melissa said, “at Maggie’s old place.”
“That belongs to Hatch,” Hannah said. “You should ask him about them. He knows a guy who builds them.”
With nothing more to do that day, and in need of keeping busy doing something, Melissa stopped in at Fitzpatricks Service Station to talk to Hatch, Hannah’s ex-high-school-boyfriend and the head mechanic.
“Hey, purdy girl,” he said when she walked in the garage bay, where he was working under a pickup truck jacked up high in the air. “I’d hug ya, but I’m all covered in erl, as usual. Consider yourself hugged, though.”
Melissa asked him about the tiny house.
“Ain’t that something?” Hatch said. “I didn’t know if I’d like it or not, but I got to tell you, I do. Me and Joshie aren’t much on house cleaning, and there ain’t much house to clean. It works fine for us.”
“Hannah said you know a guy who builds them.”
“Yes, ma’am, I certainly do. Name’s Johnny Johnson. Looks like a mountain man, he does. He’s an odd feller; I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him. Has a peculiar way of talking. He built his cabin with his own two hands. Lives way out Pumpkin Ridge, and don’t use no city water nor electric. He’s got mineral rights, a wellspring, and heats it all with natural gas. He’s even got a solar power hot water heater. It’s the darndest thing; his whole barn roof is covered in solar panels. He runs power tools off it, too. Off the grid, they call that.”
“How do I get in touch with him?”
“Dee and Levi Goldman are good friends of his,” Hatch said. “They sold him the land when he came out of the military; he was a friend of their son who died. They were both pilots. Of the evenings, Levi and Johnny make music with some other fellers live out there. Mandolin and fiddle, mountain music, like. You call Dee, and she’ll hook you up.”
“Thanks, Hatch.”
“He’s odd, now. Don’t let him put you off. He don’t see too many people and the war done turned him funny. But he’s a good man and an honest man, and if you want one of them little homes he’ll fix you right up.”
“How’s Josh doing?’ she asked. “Tommy’s so fond of him and Timmy; he misses them.”
Pumpkin Ridge (Rose Hill Mystery Series Book 10) Page 9
